Wood if I could

So, a presently ongoing saga. A couple of weeks ago I heard an odd call while out on the back deck of Walkabout Estates Plus, overlooking the pond – I didn’t recognize it but thought it seemed familiar. Then, on a hunch, I got out the binoculars and began scanning the area, and confirmed my suspicion: out in a secondary pool some distance off, I could see some wood ducks (Aix sponsa.) This was excellent, because I’ve rarely even spotted them in the wild and certainly have no wild pics of them.

portion of pond on Walkabout Estates Plus
Now, a word about the pond. It’s closer to being a bayou, stretching for a few hundred meters but separated into multiple pools, all bordered by bald cypress trees – shallow, but as we found out last week, quite boggy/muddy in the bottom, so a bad choice for wading. Near Walkabout Manor, it more resembles a pond, but as it gets further down (where I spotted the ducks,) it’s much more of a swamp. This is fine, we weren’t looking for a place to go boating or swimming, but it does mean access is not a casual stroll. Last week I made the attempt to creep up on the ducks and get some pics, but this proved easier typed than accomplished.

full frame shot across pond at 600mm showing something out there
It doesn’t help at all that the one perspective that I’ve managed so far has been shooting almost due south, so straight into the sun and the sun’s reflection from the water. This is full frame at 600mm, peeking through the intervening foliage because getting past it would have brought me into open sunlight and full sight. But there’s something in there…

A tighter crop reveals more, though:

cropped image showing female wood duck Aix sponsa in shadows
That’s enough to see the teardrop white marking around the eye and the faint nap of the ‘hood,’ indicating that this is a female wood duck. Which is as good as I got that day. It was easier to see the mallards (Anas platyrhynchos.)

small flock of mallards Anas platyrhynchos in pond on Walkabout Estates Plus
Further attempts proved how spooky they were, as they took flight when I became too obvious, and I might have to construct a blind. But the first thing to construct was a nest box for the wood ducks, which was accomplished when I found some old shelves that were the perfect size.

wood duck nest box
This is based on plans found here, and is only pine, but we had some appropriately-colored stain handy, so that augmented the old brown stain that was already on the shelves (as well as some splashes of white paint from some time in the past.) Hopefully this will keep it lasting a little longer than a single season – it really should be made from cypress or cedar, but those are completely unavailable in the right size around here.

interior of wood duck nest box showing interior roughing for ducklings to climb out
The plans called for hardware cloth on the inside under the entry hole, but I simply gouged the wood with a circular saw. This is to give the ducklings an easy surface to grip with the nails on their toes when they climb out, quite soon after hatching; they’ll then spend the next few weeks on the pond itself with the mother, so the box serves only to incubate the eggs. The ducklings cannot fly when they bail the nest, still looking like little gold and brown cat toys, but they withstand drops from quite significant heights, even onto solid ground – you need to look up videos of them leaving the nest, because the bouncing is unreal.

Having finished the nest box but still deciding where it’s going to be mounted (and if it will be joined by one or two more,) I went out again yesterday to try again for some decent pics of the potential future occupants. Long story short: I spotted them three times, and never could get the camera even locked on before they took flight. This will definitely be challenging.

But I did find some other items of interest.

recent beaver activity on Walkabout Estates Plus
That’s evidence of beaver activity, and it’s right on the far side of the main pool – it’s also only a day or two old. The Girlfriend and I were almost positive that we saw one in the main pool early one morning, but have seen no subsequent sign of them since, until now. I found trails through the tall grasses, and a couple of crossover spots between the pond and the stream that runs behind it.

Now, while everyone knows beavers have lodges, I have yet to see the typical depiction of a mound out in the middle of the beaver pond; every time here in NC, it’s been dug into the banks of the pond, stream, or lake instead, and the quality of the pond edges on the property, the slow descent into bog and mud, convinced me that the lodges would be on the stream and not the pond. I was still attempting to get pics of the wood ducks, so I was exploring and stalking a pair that seemed to be staying just out of sight along the edge of the stream.

At one point, I spooked a raptor, likely our resident red-shouldered hawk, from its perch near the stream, where it swooped low across the water and produced a loud splash – quite curious, because it was nowhere near low enough to have struck the water itself, not to mention that such birds aren’t water hunters or divers. I thought it might have come low enough to try for a wood duck. The view was obscured by dense woods right to the stream edge, so I tried working closer, causing the same bird to fly off again with another splash; I could see enough of the water and flight path to know it was nearly two meters off the water, so what was this all about? I never saw a wood duck during this, nor heard any alarms.

A few meters further on, as I was skirting a pile of discarded bamboo (that I surmised the previous residents had left behind while clearing paths around the pond,) I heard another splash, this time on my side of the stream and very close, almost underneath me. What was truly confusing was that I could see the water clearly enough from there to observe no ripples at all – what the hell? You’ve probably pieced it together faster than I did, but it really only took a moment of looking around to make me realize that the pile of bamboo and sticks I was standing right alongside was shielding over the top opening of the lodge, and I had been spotted by a beaver within.

upper shielded opening of beaver Castor canadensis lodge in stream bank,  almost directly underfoot from the photographer
You can see the stream in the background and the dark opening in the middle there, going deeper than it seems at first, with an obvious beaver stick poking out at bottom – I had been too busy watching the water to be looking closely towards my feet. Yeah, yeah, I know, excuses excuses, but the whole point was to try and see the wood ducks before they saw me.

This is actually pretty easy to get to, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on it – kind of. Beavers are primarily nocturnal, so even getting right up next to it won’t mean squat without light. But I’m already planning to do a small amount of ground clearing, mostly to get the noisy stuff out from underfoot so I can walk through the area without making as much noise, which can only help. With luck, maybe I’ll find an area on the edge of the stream where I can achieve a decently clear view, and perhaps create a blind. Now’s the time to be doing this, before the spring brings all the critter activity.

Perhaps the last for the year

In crossing the yard the other day, I saw movement in a bare-ish patch of lawn, immediately recognizing it as a ground skink – I pounced, managed (after a couple of tries) to get it into my hand, then had to endeavor not to let it slip between my fingers. But this gave me the chance to do a few studio pics.

ground skink Scincella lateralis on ground litter
Mimicking their natural habitat isn’t hard, since they like leaf litter and loose earth – I’ve seen them a few times since we moved here, but never when I had the chance to capture one, and forget about getting pics in situ, unless I get really lucky some day. Unlike the anoles, they’re very secretive, and while they might be out basking in the sun at times, they quickly slink under cover, moving far more like a very fast snake than any of the other lizards in the area. And, they’re small:

ground skink Scincella lateralis alongside measuring scale
They can get bigger than this, but this is roughly the average size that I’ve found them, so clearly not too many critters need to be worried about falling prey to them. And even though they’re quite a shiny and reflective bronze in color along the back, they still blend in to leaves with ease.

My specimen here was fairly cooperative, which was nice, because I imagined it repeatedly seeking shelter under the leaves or even burrowing in the soil, and thought the session was going to be a lot harder than it was.

ground skink Scincella lateralis in 3/4 profile
They might look wet and even slimy, but unlike salamanders and newts, they’re perfectly dry and don’t require the dampness that those do. I’d say that the dark lateral stripe was an identifying characteristic, which is probably true, but it’s hard to mistake these guys for anything else, really.

This was a few days ago during a nice warm part of the day, but the temperature dropped right alongside freezing last night and this may have been enough to convince the reptiles to pack it in for the year – not sure yet.

ground skink Scincella lateralis with bit of soil as eye-booger
The skink remained motionless for a short while, and I took advantage of this to get different perspectives, but this side has a distraction, or detraction, or both: a bit of soil adhering to the corner of the eye, hardly visible until I got it under the magnification of the lens. But, unbelievably, I was able to nudge that almost away:

ground skink Scincella lateralis with soil removed by photographer
Using a corner of the same paper scale seen above, I managed to swipe the soil, not away, but at least ahead of the eye, and the skink cooperatively just closed its eye as I did this. Which is not bad, considering that the entire head is, what, seven millimeters in length? Where does it become neck, anyway? A philosophical question for the ages, or at least for bored herpetologists.

Meanwhile, look at those tiny toes.

I released my model here back where I found it once I was done, and have seen no sign of any since. But, the same day I did see our resident red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) again, multiple times in the yard, and during one of those it was scarfing down what appeared to be an anole, though I was unable to get any pics of that. I got a basic portrait later.

likely female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus standing in yard looking for prey
There are probably more than enough anoles in the yard that she won’t make them extinct, though I imagine she could knock down quite a few each day. But she also hunts out back and along the pond, and there are plenty of other opportunities back there for mice, snakes, toads, and so on. She seems to like the property, so fingers crossed regarding a nest come spring.

November, your mother and I think you should move out

We’re just a tad late, but not too much, and so we’ll see November out on its own (but always welcome to visit, as long as it’s not overnight) with the month-end abstracts. And this month, we have two (urk!) smutphone examples, because that’s what I had in hand at the times.

sunlight through elephant ear leaf
Nice textures, but probably not too confusing or mysterious. We were transplanting among the last of the plants (in this case a butterfly bush) near an elephant ear plant when I noticed the sunlight coming through the leaf, and the smutphone was the only thing handy, not to mention that my hands were dirty and it was the only thing that I wanted to handle anyway. Still not sure of the exact species so that information will wait for another time. Gave a little boost to saturation and contrast to make it look how I remembered it, as well as more closely matching the phone display.

And then, we were out and about yesterday and came across this ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba) tree just losing its leaves, which was a little surprising to The Girlfriend and I, since most other trees are largely bare. I found a patch of blue-ish shy and fired off a few frames.

ginkgo Ginkgo biloba leaves in autumn colors against wispy clouds and blue sky
We’re waiting to see if the one we transplanted a couple weeks ago takes hold in the spring, while two others, much smaller, reside in the greenhouse for now; the pot of one of those has been chosen, twice, for fire ant infestations – I mean, not by us, but by the ants themselves, despite our disapproval. I think the second attempt to convince them of their folly (by wholesale slaughter) might have worked. They probably wouldn’t hurt the tree by being in there, but this whole thing about swarming and attacking anything that disturbed the pot, even by watering, wasn’t flying with us.

I might try and get some more pics up a little later on today – we’ll see.

Just once, part 48

pair of mandrills Mandrillus sphinx in unknown location
When first/last I featured this duo, I said that I wasn’t sure where it was taken – the obvious choice was the North Carolina Zoological Park in Asheboro, given how long ago it was taken and the negative film used. Except I didn’t recall ever seeing mandrills (Mandrillus sphinx) there. Since that time, I found several more examples in my negative pages, right smack between other subjects clearly from the NC Zoo, so apparently my memory sucks. I can’t pin down where in the zoo they were, which is curious, because I can tell you exactly how to get to most major species therein – or at least I could. It’s been a few years since I’ve been now and things might have changed.

Their previous appearance was for another weekly topic, then ‘Visibly Different,’ and I talked about how bad the quality of the shot was even when I liked the poses, and this image was used to illustrate the condition of the negative, though the scratches and dust are easy enough to remove. But some time in the years between the original capture and that post, I’d had an inspiration; a little fartistic altering, using the grain, produced this:

mandrill image converted to greyscale with background removed
… which suddenly makes the grain a lot more at home, because we expect it from monochrome images, or at least find it more acceptable since much of the time, ‘monochrome’ means ‘old,’ and older films could be pretty grainy. And of course there was a bit of cleanup in there, isolating the subjects and removing distracting elements; the unfocused mandrill in the back now takes on a more symbolic nature, suggesting that it’s more imaginary than real.

And I couldn’t leave it at that, either.

selective color version of mandrills image
I can confirm another detail now: this is a female (foreground) and male (background) mandrill, and has nothing to do with the looming specter of age or anything. The looming specter of males, now, that’s another thing, one I’m not qualified to comment on. I try not to loom, myself…

Always check your calendar

Several years ago during the trip to South Carolina, I was putting one of the kayaks on the roof rack of the car and, being incautious, ran into the side mirror of the car while maneuvering the straps around. This pulled a muscle in the side of my lower back rather seriously, and left me a bit tender for a while. Worse, it’s the kind of muscle that you use for a lot of things, and so I could aggravate it with no effort whatsoever, even while trying to avoid using it at all.

And then the next summer I think, I pulled it again, in exactly the same manner – the side mirrors on the car just hit at a terrible spot, plus I’m not thinking about them as I’m trying to manage the kayaks. This was of course worse, not as much from the damage that I’d done as from failing to remember the hazard despite the lasting impression that it provided. Having done it twice, however, seemed to have produced some lasting vulnerability, since I can now start that muscle aching with little provocation. The recent extended efforts at moving house, for example, has meant that I’ve pulled it mildly several times, and so I’ve spent no small number of days with a sporadically sore side and difficulty in doing certain strenuous actions – naturally, I haven’t the liberty of not doing them, because I wasn’t smart enough to have kids that I could fob all those tasks onto. Just yesterday, for example, we transplanted almost the last of the plants that needed it, but the digging and stooping and so on left me a little sore, again, concentrated right in that portion of my side.

But earlier this evening, I turned from putting something in the recycle bin in the garage, slightly tight quarters considering that The Girlfriend’s car is right there, and goddamned if I didn’t smack that exact same muscle again, solidly, right on her sideview mirror! I knew instantly that this was a bad one, and I could barely move without somehow involving that muscle group; I could be standing still and, without ever knowing how I did it, I’d tense that muscle and boom, stabbing pain. It’s been a rough evening, and I’m on a couple different kinds of painkillers right now. I’d almost suspect I did some kind of internal injury – well, you know, to organs – but everything will be fine unless I move a certain way. The best course of action is naturally to not move, but I’ve never been able to lie still for hours on end.

Now we get into causality, because I’d forgotten to check the calendar, otherwise I would have known that it was Do The Same Stupid Fucking Thing Again Day. Would this have been forewarning, and I could have avoided this fate? Or would the hypersensitivity of trying to determine what I wanted to stay away from have caused me to fail prey to something else? I mean, I don’t think I’ve done a lot of stupid fucking things, but I’ve never tried tallying them up, either. What’s the average? Does it matter? You only need a couple to lose track of, I suppose.

I will say that I am trying to make the best of it, and have a decent excuse not to move heavy things for a couple of days, already exercised. It’s tempered by the fact that I have no idea how to totally avoid using that muscle area. It’s like wiggling your ears: you have the muscles to do it, but you have no idea how to select them, or in this case, avoid them. So at the moment, I’m prone to sudden sharp pains in my side that make me tense up, the worst thing to do, and so I then abruptly try to relax them, and then wonder how I still flexed that damaged muscle without doing anything that I thought would have aggravated it. I’m having fun.

Further along those lines…

Just a follow-up to yesterday’s post, from early this morning. Because I opened the blinds in the bedroom and found the female red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) standing in the lawn right outside the window, but she noticed the movement and decided it wasn’t kosher, that close and with her down that low. I realized, many years ago while doing wildlife rehabilitation, that height is security (and dominance) to birds, so being down on the ground makes them much more antsy. She quickly resumed her perch on the light pole.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus perched on light pole in early morning
The rain was all past and the sky resoundingly clear, though I was still facing south and so the light was less than ideal. Especially, her supraorbital ridge, the ‘eyebrow,’ was keeping her eyes shaded as she examined the ground for prey. But I kept the camera raised and waited her out, and soon enough, she turned her head a bit and gave me that light in the eyes.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus with catchlight in eyes
I’ve already noticed a pattern, in that many of the subjects that so handily appear in the yard here do so to the south, right smack into the sun – we’ll see even more of that in an upcoming post, but it shows that there are some challenges to overcome.

I was shooting from a distance, half-hidden, to avoid spooking my subject here, and decided to slip out the back of the house and try that angle instead, which might improve the light a little – if I managed not to scare her. So I went around that way and slowly eased out until I could see her atop the pole.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus from slightly better angle
You can see the roof edge in there, and the light is slightly better, but not significantly – I changed angle by no more than 30 degrees, and was closer and running the potential of being spotted. Which did eventually occur.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus spotting photogragher
Nonetheless, she remained at her perch and soon dismissed me as inconsequential, and I let her be after a few frames.

And then The Girlfriend told me that she’d gone down to the mailbox, passing almost directly under the hawk, who didn’t move. So then I went back out and crept a bit closer. Our behavior was a little different, because I was definitely pausing while facing the hawk and aiming a large glass lens in her direction, which likely spelled our more warning signs than The Girlfriend ambling down to the mailbox. But it didn’t matter.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus from closer
She ended up holding that perch for the next 90 minutes or so, and I never saw her fly off, but later on in the day I believe I spooked her – one of them, anyway – from a tree in the backyard right alongside the pond. Build a nest, build a nest, build a nest…

And since I’m doing the follow-up, I thought I’d show the same anole in daylight this time, still too early to be reaping much of the benefits of the sunlight (and done with the 150-600 lens, since I had it mounted):

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis warming itself on wind sculpture
The day was sunny but the front had pushed through overnight and the temperature had dropped noticeably, so the lizards had to spend some time warming up to activity levels. But the patterns visible on this one’s skin are interesting, anyway. None of them seem to be turning green very much anymore, due to both the lack of bright green foliage and the lower temperatures necessitating that more solar warmth needed to be absorbed, but there are plenty of them still active all over the place, so we’ll see how long it goes before they pack it in for the winter. There’s a frost warning for tonight and this might be it.

Defying expectations

So yesterday I determined that there were a few shots that I wanted to capture today, and had them scheduled in. The weather, however, had other ideas, and most of the day was rainy, not at all conditions for what I had planned (which, successful or not, I’ll reveal eventually – just not in this post.) Thus I resigned myself to skipping photography for the day and working on other tasks instead, of which there are still plenty.

But in the afternoon I went out to check the mail and found someone right smack in our front yard, and hurried back inside immediately. This is not as ominous (or as wimpy) as it sounds, because the someone was a red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus,) and I went inside to get the camera and The Girlfriend. Coming back out, I eased the lens into view and was just focusing when the hawk decided not to hang around and flew off, showing that my suspicions of it having prey on the lawn were unfounded. Luckily though, it only flew to the light pole at the end of the driveway, where we discovered that another waited.

pair of red-shouldered hawks Buteo lineatus perched on light pole
We’ve been hearing one marking territory in the immediate area quite often, and have spotted it in the trees in the yard a few times, but never in the clear enough for photos, so I was pleased to have them both out in the open like this, albeit in lousy light. The one from the yard is on the right, and is likely female judging from being larger than the other – it’s a little early for mating season, but who knows?

It was still raining lightly, which might have helped, because I was able to creep a bit closer for better framing without them flying off.

likely female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus perched on light pole
I made it to roughly 20 meters off, enough to get a few shots, and left it at that so I wouldn’t spook them off. I honestly don’t know how much or how quickly birds can condition to human presence, but I thought it was better for me to walk away quietly rather than have them fly off when they felt I was too close. Maybe we’ll have a nest nearby, come spring.

likely male red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus perched on light pole
The male didn’t appear the slightest interested in what I was doing, only glancing at my progress occasionally. There were plenty of grey squirrels active in the yard and it’s likely that’s what they were after; I did examine the yard where the female had been standing and found no evidence of remains, but if they want to raise some young here, the yard and the pond will provide plenty of food.

Later in the evening, going out to check the mail again (the light pole was almost directly over the mailbox and so I had skipped it earlier to avoid disturbing the hawks,) I noticed something on one of the balancing birds, and so got the camera back out.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis sleeping on balance sculpture during rain
The past couple of nights have been far too chilly for the Carolina anoles (Anolis carolinensis) to be sleeping in the open, and it was still raining lightly anyway, but the temperature was actually warmer than it had been during the day, and so this guy was game.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis coated with raindrops while sleeping on yard sculpture
The anole had one eye opened sleepily watching what was going on, which is fairly typical, but otherwise remained undisturbed. It’s entirely possible that this is the one that had been sleeping inside the sculpture, which we saw again one of these mornings, yesterday or today. However, upon unloading the memory card, I noticed that I could never see further down the tail than this, and wasn’t sure if it was simply because the wings of the sculpture cut off the flash light, or if the tail was partially missing. So I went back out a little later to check.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis showing truncated tail
Yep, this one lost part of its tail in some altercation, which is fairly frequent. We’ll have to see if it grows back forked.

But I want you to notice the different in lighting between the anole pics. The latest one immediately above is less contrasty than the others, and also a little bit yellower – this is because I was using the macro softbox for this shot of the missing tail, but direct flash with the others. Direct flash makes the raindrops show up better, but the heightened contrast and deeper shadows sometimes eliminates details in macro subjects, which is why I have the softbox.

There was something else that I brought the camera out for, though.

unidentified small bird roosting in Leyland cypress Cupressocyparis leylandii
There is a line of Leyland cypress (Cupressocyparis leylandii) trees along the driveway, and each night some variety of bird chooses them to roost within in fairly noticeable numbers – I spot them with the headlamp from time to time when I’m out snooping around, but the nature of the foliage and the habits of the birds means that I rarely get more than a glimpse of a pale belly. Tonight was a little different, and I could work some angles that showed a little more identifying coloration. Just, not enough; I’ve been through my Sibley Guide multiple times and can’t pin it down, though my suspicion that they’re warblers remains. It does not help that warblers get very vague coloration during the fall and winter months.

unidentified small bird roosting in Leyland cypress Cupressocyparis leylandii
Naturally, they were always overhead – not by much, but enough to prevent any views of the backs or wings that might assist in pinning it down. I believe I’ve seen them during the day, but they’re just as buried in the foliage and not holding still in the slightest, so the view is much worse.

four unidentified small birds roosting in Leyland cypress Cupressocyparis leylandii
These four were all roosting together in less than a half-meter cluster, and attracted my attention by having a brief, quiet discussion for a moment, but even then it was simply twitters and not any kind of song, so no help there. This was my typical view, too, up until tonight at least. If you have any ideas on the species, pass them along.

I figured, while out with the camera and flash, I’d try to find one of the anoles that insists on living in the greenhouse, and so popped in to check. Sure enough, one was found tucked into the pineapple plant.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis sleeping in pineapple plant in greenhouse
I’d spotted one here before, since the shape and density of the leaves down near the base make for good sleeping nooks, but it took me several tries to get the flash angle right to show it, while trying not to lean in too close and get stabbed by the sharp ends of those leaves. But again upon unloading, I found a detail that I likely wouldn’t have noticed at all.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis on pineapple plant showing significant damage to rear toes
Sorry about the overexposure – it’s hard to judge. But man, what happened to those rear toes? They should be long and slender, with the middle toe extending quite far out, so something caused them to be almost missing, and I have no idea what. Though now I’m less motivated to chase this one, at least, out of the greenhouse, because it’s better sheltered in there – as long as it’s finding enough food. I’ve seen them slipping under the edges of the bottom frames, and when the temperature gets high enough I open the door and ceiling vents anyway, so they can always make their own choice.

But I noticed that a different angle would give a peek at the forebody, so I went for that angle too.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis tucked into pineapple plant in greenhouse
Not much more than a peek, really – you can see the paler markings that run along the spine, and down at the bottom is the edge of the eye, with that hint of blue eyeshadow. That was the best that I was gonna get.

While there, I did a couple of updates, because it’s still a little hard for me to believe.

new blossoms on Key lime Citrus × aurantiifolia tree
Those are new blossoms on the Key lime (Citrus × aurantiifolia) trees – which still have limes on them. We’ve harvested one batch and made a fabulous pie, but have enough for something else too, so we’ve been letting them sit until we decide (and Thanksgiving is coming up anyway.) Just last night I dug out the pollinating paintbrushes, because nothing’s going to do it in the greenhouse but me, and not a moment too soon it appears. And the lemon trees were getting their start too.

almost-ready blossoms of lemon tree
These are perhaps even more ahead of the game, because both trees are laden with lemons that aren’t ripe yet – huge ones too, so we’re gathering lemon recipes as well.

cluster of ripening lemons in greenhouse
We’re definitely glad we sprung for the greenhouse, and in fact, this is a new one that’s over twice the size of the previous (which isn’t saying a lot: 2.5 x 4 meters rather than 2×2,) even though most of the plants that we’d had in there last year were waiting for the opportunity to plant them in the new place, which has now occurred – we have the citrus trees, trumpet flowers, and a potted Japanese maple in there right now, so it’s not overcrowded. Despite the delight of the anoles with it.

So, not bad for a day that I figured I’d forego the photography.

Just once, part 47

American coot Fulica americana in water
This week we have an American coot (Fulica americana,) found in the ponds of Savannah National Wildlife Refuge in South Carolina. I’d photographed one once before this, in Wakodahatchee Wetlands in Delray Beach, Florida – not a very good shot, but it showed their semi-webbed feet well – but as for being featured on the blog, this only happened once, four years ago. Which was the last time we were down at Savannah NWR, which we’ll have to remedy soon.

This coot was sharing the same space with common moorhens gallinules and purple gallinules, and as I type this, I find that what was considered the common moorhen in the US, the same species as found in Europe and Africa, isn’t – they are genetically distinct and now considered a separate species as of 2011. Which is funny, because I also featured that species in the same post in 2020, but this new nomenclature had not yet propagated to my identification sources; for birds, this is usually Cornell University’s All About Birds site, though I can’t recall if I used it then. The point I was making, however, was that despite their very similar appearance, habits, and habitats, they’re all distinctly different species, different genuses in fact.

American coot Fulica americana in profile with reflection and pond lily
But I’d featured both of those species multiple times before now, while the American coot was only once, so that’s what we’re discussing now. Even if it is the least remarkable in appearance. I did what I could with the opportunities, but you almost get the impression that the pics would have been better without the distraction of the drab birds in there. I mean, they have red eyes, but then someone said, “That’s a bit garish – let’s tone it down a bit.” They probably resent the change to “gallinule,” too. Oh, wait, that was the other one…

Chaos, revisited, part one

I almost felt obligated to do this follow-up, considering how badly I lambasted the book that purported to explain the concept, because it seems that it was, at least to a degree, more the author’s dismal attempt to explain it than the concept itself.

We’re talking about chaos theory, and it does not bode well that I sought out multiple sources to try and get a grip on it and failed; however, this recent article did more for my understanding than all of those sources combined, and did so in a way that it fit well into the other disciplines of science. That article is The Forces of Chance by Brian Klaas who is, of all things, an associate professor in global politics at University College London – not (by vocation) a mathematician, though how far removed this is I cannot say. But all credit to him for pinning the idea down so well, with perhaps some caveats in there, which we’ll get to.

Basic definition: chaos theory is the manner in which large systems may depart from expected results in a non-linear manner. Well, that’s about worthless without exposition, but to add the necessary element, in some cases very small variations can lead to quite broad effects, and we’ll use the old standby of the weather to help explain it. Weather is hard to predict, even though we understand the mechanics of it just fine: air warms and expands, picks up moisture that can make clouds, and so on. But predicting it is hard and fraught with wide error margins, because a little extra warmth here, a bit of smoke there, and other such factors, can cause a storm to become raging or peter out entirely.

A quick note: physics is deterministic, meaning that if we know the energy that goes in, we know the effect that comes out. Full stop. The only place where this falls apart is on the subatomic level, and countless experiments at this level shows that it rarely ever can rise above it to have the slightest effect at all; there’s more than a suspicion that there’s at least another law of physics governing this subatomic ‘randomness’ to make that deterministic too. What this all means is, given enough information about conditions of any given system (for instance a cold front,) we can predict what it will do. The key factor in there is given enough information, which is many cases is far more than we have any way of gathering or collating. How much of that smoke from a volcano will reflect sunlight and drop regional temperatures, versus how high is the humidity where the smoke particles themselves form nuclei for raindrops and gets quickly carried back down to the ground?

Now, the ‘law’ of averages (we really should stop using that term,) indicates that small variations tend to balance out: a little bit this way, a little bit in the opposite way, and the effect largely cancels. What chaos theory addresses are the circumstances where that averaging fails, and a small variation leads the physical effects down a different path (this is where non-linear is a bit misleading, because it remains linear, just departing from average or even expectations.) My example is following a complicated set of driving directions, only inverting right and left in just one step – you might still get fairly close to your destination, or you might go incredibly far out of your way.

Klaas provides another example that highlights a difference in factors, by recounting a personal, emotional bond that affected the choice of targets for the atomic bombs dropped on Japan during World War II – and at the same time, a chance weather event. Both of these – human emotions and weather – are inherently chaotic, defying predictions and expectations. And Klaas largely addresses the failures of social sciences (politics, economy, sociology, psychology) to effectively predict outcomes, which are all reliant on human emotions to a large extent. Does this mean humans are chaotic? Well, certainly that they’re complicated, while not in any way defying the laws of physics or determinism. For instance, I don’t like the color red, and who knows why this might be? It could potentially be due to my astigmatism, and how the lenses in my eyes don’t focus red as well as other colors, but the result might be that, in a decision that depends on whether I choose red or blue, blue is going to be the case most often – even though, on average, humans prefer red over blue. You could only predict this if you knew this trait about me (and now you are so armed.)

This overall dependence on wildly variable human input, however, is why there’s a distinction of ‘social’ sciences versus ‘physical,’ and you can argue – I would, anyway – that the word ‘science’ shouldn’t be applied to the former, because there have never been any results in such fields that tell us we have this down to a science. Here, chaos theory has due application – to a degree, anyway.

Because chaos theory doesn’t determine when a system will depart expectations or ‘become non-linear,’ nor does it provide a method to prevent this – it’s just something we can point to after it happens, a name we can apply. In scientific terms, a theory is an explanation for the known facts – a strong theory predicts results, given the right factors, and this is what chaos theory does not do. And this is also where the article was ultimately disappointing, because while it showed how and where chaos might erupt, it didn’t provide any advancements that have been made since the theory was first coined – I was kind of hoping that, given our enormous computing power and the decades of observations, someone might have been on track for finding any key factors that would help predict when this non-linearity could appear, but so far, we appear to have nothing.

The aforeblasted book by James Gleick was notorious for accusing scientists for not accepting chaos theory, though it never became clear where this was taking place, nor what exactly was supposed to be done about it, and Klaas makes the same error, though to a lesser degree, For instance:

The problem is that social scientists don’t seem to know how to incorporate the nonlinearity of chaos.

I’ll bite: how do you incorporate chaos theory? If it can arise at any time, especially in certain disciplines, what are we supposed to do about it? Simply shrug and say, “I dunno,” and then go play video games? Giving a name to unpredictability isn’t exactly a huge accomplishment – we’d embraced unpredictability before we had language. Ignorance is our default state; our goal is to reduce that as much as possible.

Klaas also targets natural selection (which of course raised my hackles,) but this is more of a straw man argument than anything informative. He shows that genetic variations were largely random, which is perfectly true; the problem is, virtually no one claimed otherwise, and the key part in there is natural selection. Evolution is how the environment favors the variations that best support survival and reproduction, but it has always depended on which variations arise, and many of the weird things we see in species are because an optimal variation did not, so something else that could barely fit the bill was adapted instead. I hate to tell him this, but this was known before chaos theory was coined (and didn’t leap forward after that, either.)

I still have to give the article credit in that it never attempts to deny or misuse determinism, never implies that our knowledge of physics is somehow flawed, which is certainly the overriding impression that I kept receiving from Gleick’s book. Nor does it attempt to elevate chaos theory into something remarkable and innovative, though Klaas does seem to believe that the social sciences cannot recognize it; I have seen no direct examples of this myself, though I never put stock into economics and poli-sci and don’t know how many people do.

But what I will say is that the article sparked a couple of ideas, and rather than make this post inordinately long, I’ll go into them a little later on. Lucky us, eh?

Just once, part 46

possible cabbage white butterfly Pieris rapae on thistle Asteraceae flower
We have a double this week, a cabbage white butterfly (Pieris rapae) and thistle flowers (Asteraceae.) The thistle is not so surprising, since while it is abundant in central New York where I took this, I haven’t yet seen it in North Carolina where I spend the vast majority of my time, and truth be told, I don’t seek out thistle flowers as photo subjects – it was the cabbage white that attracted my attention. Those can be found all over the US, but I had a vague suspicion that maybe I didn’t have much chance to see one since their preferred food was thistle nectar; a check with BugGuide.net disavowed me of that notion – they sup from lots of plants. So perhaps it was just that I don’t often pursue the smaller butterflies. Or maybe they really are scarce around here, for whatever reason.

It was the delicate green color that made me frame this subject, but the other reason that I feature this here is that it was taken not with any form of macro lens, but the Tamron 150-600 at 600mm instead, which can’t focus within two meters. I admit I was chasing birds instead that day, but this subject presented itself and so I snagged it, and was lucky enough to catch the multiple false pupils in the eyes (we are talking about the butterfly right now.)

Actually, I tell a lie. Not only have I featured thistle flowers here before, I can now recall two separate occasions where I found them in North Carolina (neither of them is that link, which was Florida.) I don’t think I’ve posted images of either of those occasions here, but obviously I still showed thistles at that link, so we only have the cabbage white as a singular appearance. At least so identified. It’s probably not even the only ‘macro’ shot with that lens featured here. I’ll try and do better next week…

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